


A question, out here in the dark

by 35391291



Series: Lingering and lost [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Cartomancy, Divination, Dreamscapes, Gen, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Sentient Nature, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/35391291/pseuds/35391291
Summary: But maybe he has been here before. Maybe this is the night when all the colours bleed out and start to mean something. He can't understand the message yet, but he will. He will.Maybe there is something else, something more.





	A question, out here in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hummingbird_salt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbird_salt/gifts).



> This story was inspired by the prompts for the third and fifth day of Mag7Week: Unexpected, Alternate Universe and Supernatural, and especially by [this amazing time travel AU](http://awesomemixvolume-2.tumblr.com/post/164422935457/mag7-time-traveler-au), which was the kick in the butt it needed to get in motion. Thank you Bekah, both for the inspiration and the beta-ing! :)
> 
> For anyone who's interested, the deck Vasquez uses in this story is the [Fatima oracle](https://get.google.com/albumarchive/104554353255343676700/album/AF1QipMz27ZxQ3GSpzcdzJrwiwn8FhbcaAnVzNfwGQHH), which was created in the late 1920s. It's rather dreamlike and mysterious, so I thought it was a perfect fit!

A suspended ring or the mode of laughing  
Pebbles drawn from a heap  
One of these things  
Will tell you something.

Let's tell the future  
Let's see how it's been done.  
How it's been done.

\- Suzanne Vega: [Predictions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aN-1fqRb6A).

*

The desert breathes. The stone flowers run, and then they sleep. Year after year, the hours and the moments make shapes and patterns in the sky. It's always the same. And this is how it is, this time around. There is a dark, quiet man that rides with them. He is a bit like a shadow. Is he really there? Maybe, maybe not. When he speaks, his voice is soft and low, like a secret. Faraday has one or two of his own, so it fits. The man's hands move quickly, like sparrows. He has a deck of cards that he handles as easily as his guns. For some reason, that makes him seem a little more real. It's a reminder of home, wherever that may be now. But when Faraday suggests a game, he sees that they aren't ordinary playing cards. After all this time, something like this shouldn't be surprising. But it is. Time is funny like that. It's always the same. But always different.

Why he cares, he doesn't know. But the night is long and slow, and they can't move forward yet. The wind picks up, and it means rain. There is nothing to do except wait, among the shared bedrolls and whiskey and cigars. Why not share a question, out here in the dark? If nothing else, he'll hear a beautiful story. He'll forget the here and the now for a moment, right here under the stars. And he could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.

And he asks. And he finds himself truly there. Listening. The cards were passed down to him by his mother, who got them from her mother, the man says. An old lady from Fatima. Or Sagres. Or Guadalupe. Faraday isn't sure. The names of these faraway foreign places make him feel light-headed. They sound new and mysterious, but oddly right, as if they'd always been there. As if he'd known them before. And maybe he has. _If you remember a dream when you wake up, it means something._ This is what he learned, all those years ago. This is all he knows.

The dark man is called Vasquez, or maybe something else. But that isn't important. They are here to talk about something else. This is how it's always been done, he says. And yes, he knows that the future isn't set in stone. Men like them ought to know better. Time is a funny thing, isn't it? There is no reason or destiny, each makes up his own path. It should sound silly, but it all rings true. It's as if he _knew_. So Faraday sits by him and listens, because he wants to see what he will show him. Who knows? Maybe there is something else, something more.

The cards are fascinating, their shapes and colours intoxicating, almost otherworldly. He can't look away. They are like a spiral and a magnet, and they remind him of something he has seen in his dreams, year after year. Something long lost, something he might get back if he tries hard enough. They unsettle him and shake him, and something inside of him breaks loose. He thinks about all the years gone by, but he tries to hide, he tries to fight it. _This is silly, so silly, I can't gamble with these_. He brings out his own deck. It's familiar. It's safe. He can almost trust it. If it mocks him, well, he can ignore it. He's had years of practice. He won't fall apart.

But what if he did? Would he fall into this abyss? Would he disappear? He doesn't count the hours anymore, he's given up. But maybe he has been here before. Maybe this is the night when all the colours bleed out and start to mean something. He can't understand the message yet, but he will. He will.

And the cards fall, red and gold and black. And he's lost so many years. And he still remembers. He wants to stop, he wants to stay here. But he can't. It's always the same, and he has to go. It's hopeless. But maybe, just maybe, this time it's not. His mouth feels thick and slow when he speaks and tries to raise the bet. He has nothing left, so he will gamble his heart if he has to. He'll do anything to stop falling. He'll do anything. But the dark man smiles, and then laughs, and makes him a different offer. A better one. _Remember. Look closer. Maybe they can tell you something. Something you don't know yet._

Maybe this is another dream. Or another time, another place. But it feels real. It feels like he is truly here, right now. The man is rock and tree and water, he is ashes and smoke. In his hands, the cards move like a thousand feathers. He draws the moon, and he draws the sun, and he draws the heart. Faraday feels _his_ heart unraveling, and he breathes. His bet is high enough. He can be safe and rest easy. He can let go.

And time stops. And it's like waking up to life, at last.

The man draws one last card, and he turns it around so Faraday can see. _Yes, I have seen you somewhere before._ He's drawn the home, and he _knows_. He's always known. And he makes another offer. If there is no past, present or future, then he'll be the unexpected gift. His hands turn and open, like the stone flowers. They've found a place to be. And he promises. He'll be the anchor and he'll be the key. He'll be the cloud in the desert. He'll be something else, something more.


End file.
